For thousands of years, the planet named Moloch had stood in the central region of the Milky Way, completing its revolution and rotation day after day in the northern part of the Great Rift.
In the administrative planning of the Human Imperium, it belonged to the Far East Segmentum, a relatively important node in the vast, empty northern region of the galaxy.
This massive habitable world appeared unremarkable, but its civilization history was long and profound: thousands of years ago,
when the first human explorers left humanity's homeworld, Holy Terra, piloting primitive starships to freely explore the galaxy, they were astonished by Moloch's richness and beauty.
This world, tens of thousands of light-years from Holy Terra, possessed an environment remarkably similar to humanity's homeworld: whether it was the flat, fertile main continent,
the archipelagos and azure oceans distributed north of the continent, the mysterious swamps to the south, the highlands and wilderness of the western peninsula, or even the deserts and enormous underground caverns all awakened the explorers' homesickness.
Thus, naturally, human colonists began to build towns and fortresses on this world. The breath of civilization spread across Moloch, and for thousands of years thereafter, it never ceased.
Until the thirtiirtieth millennium, fleets from Holy Terra, after a long passage of time, finally revisited this virtually isolated paradise of civilization.
At this time, Moloch was ruled by several great families piloting Knight Titans. The Divaine family, based in the city of Lupecaria, was the leader of all. Their ancestors inherited the title of 'High King' from the previous royal family,
whose bloodline had since died out. Below them, families such as Donnell, Kaushik, and Mamragon established their own territories, fulfilling their loose obligations as feudal vassals.
Until the Human Imperium's warships swarmed out from the Mandeville Point, thousands of the most powerful war engines obscured the world's sun, casting the shadow of the Great Crusade over every Molochian.
And commanding this fleet was the Lord of Humanity, the Emperor.
In addition, this most powerful leader in the entire galaxy, for some unknown purpose, summoned several of his sons to join this already over-the-top conquest.
Horus.
Fulgrim.
Lion El'Jonson.
Jaghatai Khan.
(Don't ask me why the Emperor made such a fuss, GW wrote it that way, I don't know why either)
The demigods scattered across the galaxy answered the call of their father and sovereign. Although the four Primarchs did not bring their full armies,
but each led several hundred of their sons to converge, their combined might with the Emperor was still an apocalyptic power sufficient to flatten any enemy, not to mention the Custodian Guard, the Ten Thousand, who remained inseparable from the Emperor.
When hundreds of drop pods descended like a torrential downpour, the Knight Titans belonging to the Divaine family were as fragile as sparrows before a storm. Their so-called resistance was merely symbolic.
After firing a few shots, defending their 'knight's honor', the Divaine family head tremblingly knelt before the Emperor, transforming from the High King of Moloch into the Imperium's governor of this world.
But no one paid him any heed. This family, with its hundreds of years of honored history, was never the focus. The Emperor led his sons to explore the deepest parts of Moloch,
guiding them to witness the existence of certain things. His four sons vowed to forget everything here. To this end, they voluntarily accepted the Emperor's memory-wiping psyker ability.
After this, the Lord of Humanity did not stop. He went to Moloch's most mysterious and hidden corner, a corner known only to himself.
And his sons returned to the Imperator Somnium, awaiting the return of their genetic father.
Undoubtedly, this would be a boring time.
At least for Fulgrim, it certainly was.
——————
Chemos's Phoenix was idly playing with his hair. He felt a pang of nostalgia for the Pride of the Emperor, for his most excellent and outstanding sons, and even more so for his dearest brother Ferrus Manus. He had only been away from all this for less than two Terra standard months, but the itching of nostalgia was already faintly appearing in his heart.
Unfortunately, they were not with him now.
Only…
Fulgrim's bright, shimmering purple eyes searched the room. In the corners adorned with silks and golden paintings, he saw his brother.
Jaghatai Khan was there, meticulously wiping a blade Fulgrim had never seen before.
He had only been rediscovered from a thriving grassland world less than five Terra standard years ago, transforming from a savage Khan into a member of the Human Imperium's most esteemed class.
Evidently, he was not yet fully accustomed to this change in identity.
The Primarch of the Third Legion scrutinized his brother: the strange beard and locks of hair, the sallow, impassive face, the pervasive, integrated scent of whips, leather boots, and motor oil…
The Phoenix couldn't help but sigh.
His brother was not a civilized man. He was like Leman Russ, who prided himself on his savagery, displaying a striking wildness just from his appearance.
Thinking this, Fulgrim's thoughts abruptly ceased. He frowned, gently admonishing himself internally.
Enough. One must be tolerant towards blood relatives.
Fulgrim lightly coughed twice, adjusting his demeanor and mental state. Then, he unconsciously made the double-headed eagle insignia on his breastplate exceptionally prominent. The gaze of the Third Legion's Primarch found the mirror-like wall beside him. He carefully checked his reflection, ensuring he was in his most resplendent state.
But what he didn't know was that while his attention was fixed on his reflection in the mirror, his brother was also observing him.
The Phoenix surveyed himself up and down, occasionally making slight adjustments to details until he was finally satisfied. Only then did Fulgrim straighten his chest, and with a rhythmic, almost dance-like step, approached his brother.
He pursed his lips, controlling the muscles of his mouth and cheeks, ensuring that his first words to his brother would be delivered with the most perfect smile.
Perhaps he couldn't achieve perfection, but he could do his best.
"Jaghatai, my brother."
"Horus mentioned you to me, often. He praised your sons, who, under your leadership, became the swiftest hurricane in the Imperium, bringing victory and glory."
In Fulgrim's somewhat expectant gaze, Jaghatai Khan's long beard fluttered in mid-air. The Primarch of the White Scars Legion pondered his words for a moment, then considered the current situation.
Then, he spoke, merely a simple greeting, neither distant nor overly familiar, yet filled with necessary decorum.
This situation even made Fulgrim's words hesitate slightly. His brother was not as savage and crude as he appeared, nor did he possess the somewhat annoying rash enthusiasm of Leman Russ. This left Fulgrim feeling a little unprepared.
Chemos's Phoenix maintained the gentle smile on his face, beginning to sift through his mind for new topics to continue the conversation. Jaghatai, meanwhile, subtly shifted his stance, moving silently to a reasonable distance, like a hunter observing a soaring eagle, waiting for his brother's next words.
Almost in the next second, Fulgrim's purple eyes fixed on the sharp blade in Jaghatai's palm.
"A very beautiful blade, Jaghatai…"
——————
Approximately fifteen minutes later, Horus, finally finished with his own affairs, pushed open the door to the room. He had heard his two brothers chatting happily earlier that morning.
Fulgrim and Jaghatai each stood beneath a painting. They maintained a safe and polite distance, casually discussing various topics: blades, sons, and the commonalities between vast grasslands and barren deserts.
The moment Horus pushed open the door, Fulgrim was praising his most cherished son, Aktoana. He was performing the most exquisite symphony before his brother, weaving the talents, accomplishments,
and abilities of the chief court swordsman into a rhythmically perfect hymn. Whenever he spoke of a segment that brought him joy, his fingers would unconsciously brush his breastplate, drawing attention to the unique double-headed Aquila emblem.
But unfortunately, Jaghatai seemed oblivious to this badge of honor, which was comparable to that of a Warmaster. He consistently maintained a polite quietude and listened, only responding with a deep, affirmative remark when Fulgrim mentioned truly commendable deeds.
This even left Chemos's Phoenix somewhat disappointed.
But when Horus's footsteps entered the ears of the two, the monotonous atmosphere instantly became lively and cheerful.
Fulgrim turned around, showing an undisguised joyous attitude. He opened his arms and enthusiastically embraced his brother, the Wolf King.
And Jaghatai, behind him, lightly exchanged a punch with Horus, smiling as he offered blessings from the steppes.
Although this was the Emperor's flagship, at this moment, the three Primarchs were as if they were on the Spirit of Vengeance. Horus put his arms around his two brothers' shoulders. Amidst hearty laughter, the three of them opened a few bottles of wine and finally sat in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window, beginning some lighter topics.
"Honestly, I'm a bit confused why Father gathered us from so far away."
Gazing at Moloch's blue-green surface, Fulgrim turned his head in the shadow of the star, posing a question to Horus. His purple eyes glowed in the shadow, like backlit gemstones.
"Father must have his considerations."
Horus murmured softly. When he spoke of his genetic father, the Wolf King's words and the depths of his chest were filled with the most sincere trust and adoration, as if he were the most ordinary child adoring his father.
"You, me, us—we only need to be responsible for our own legions and sons. We only need to consider events happening on one world or one star system, and only need to remember tens or hundreds of thousands of names to fulfill our mission."
"But our Father is different. He must bear more."
Horus exhaled a series of cool breaths. He looked at the giant planet before him. His most revered Father was upon it, enduring some secrets and pain alone.
He truly wished he could stand by his side.
"But our Father is different, Fulgrim, my dearest brother. He must bear an Imperium, rule the entire galaxy and race. I don't think the Regent can actually help him. Malcador, he is praised too much. The ultimate responsibility for everything still falls to our genetic Father. His burden is truly too heavy."
"But he truly can handle all of it. His power and wisdom are far greater than ours."
Fulgrim nodded, replying to Horus.
"When I was on Chemos, when I saw him, I realized this. He was far stronger, wiser, and more excellent than the best I could ever imagine. At that time, I thought, I have no reason to refuse his invitation to fight for a better and more excellent goal."
Fulgrim's reply made Horus laugh. The Wolf King patted the Phoenix's shoulder, and the two Primarchs playfully exchanged punches. The third Primarch, however, leaned back in his chair, slightly frowning due to some obscure information in Fulgrim's words.
"But, even so…"
Fulgrim winked at Horus.
"I still don't understand why he gathered us in this place. This isn't some core fortress of an alien empire, nor are there any objects that could pose a danger to our Father."
Horus laughed.
"Perhaps he just wanted to see his sons."
The Wolf King turned and patted Jaghatai.
"For example, to see his recently returned son."
"And…"
He then looked at Fulgrim.
"To see his most ambitious and excellent child."
Chemos's Phoenix was amused.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a laugh like the clear ringing of a bell. His beautiful silver hair swayed freely with the Primarch's laughter, like countless willow catkins covered in snowflakes.
"Stop flattering me, Horus."
He said this, but his face, full of smugness, carried no conviction whatsoever.
Jaghatai quietly watched his brothers, picked up his wine glass, and slowly sipped.
Fulgrim chuckled for a while, then leaned sideways, close to Horus, and intentionally spoke to his brother in a rather mysterious tone.
"Don't let Lion El'Jonson hear that… He'll be displeased."
As his words fell, the two burst into laughter again.
But this laughter quickly ceased, because the Primarchs' superhuman senses allowed them to detect some different sounds and auras: a massive, cold, and not-to-be-underestimated black shadow had appeared at the end of the corridor, about to enter the room.
Jaghatai remained seated, slowly sipping his wine, marveling at everything before him.
Upon hearing the footsteps, Horus's casual aura instantly vanished without a trace. The Wolf King almost instinctively straightened up, his unrestrained laughter shrinking into a calm smile. He stood up and walked to the door, facing the sound.
A different kind of aura lingered around Horus. It was an aura of facing confrontation and trials. At this moment, Horus, more than a Primarch's elder brother, resembled a determined prince.
Fulgrim did not rise. He picked up his own wine glass, muttering something softly.
Amidst these inaudible sighs, the massive shadow entered the room.
Golden hair, emerald eyes, pure black armor and a sharp greatsword, and a regal aura that was intimidating without anger.
"Brother."
Horus smiled, and walked forward to greet him.
Lion El'Jonson, the Primarch of the First Legion, had arrived.
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